Poetry To Me

poetry to me
I never really understood the concept of poetry.
never took classes, master the process or guidelines or learn “the art”. i would always write what I wanted, and fall back on poetic license.
poetry was never a planned journey for me. it was finding out my habitat, it was discovering my world and the freedom I had to color it with words that my heart would spit out. raw, unfiltered words.
See my definition of poetry isn’t something you’d find in books. you could even look in-between the lines and I’m sure you wouldn’t see it like I do.

poetry to me is home in a house , it is finding a subtle definition to every expression I pen down. it is taking my emotions and weaving it into something special, something coded and if you could decipher, poetry to me is letting you into my world, it is walking you through every word, every breath, every measure i took to measure how much I spilled, how much i poured out without holding back. poetry to me is an escape. an immediate jail Break from every prison cell reality seems to trap me in. from the hands of pain without realization poetry is my solace, my peaceful abode. the only soft spot to land back on after a rough ride. poetry is my reality, my lifestyle. it is holding back when you should let go, it is believing without evidence. poetry is finding what bemuses my muse, picking up clues, breaking out from my blues, cleaning up my bruises and choosing not to give up.
poetry is the story line of my life long before discovery. with events unfolding like the lines of a perfectly crafted piece, one with suspense at the expense of an intense plot twist. poetry is the unpredicted outcome of a thriller. and when you didn’t see it coming poetry is saying “i don’t give up”. poetry is picking up my pen, finding my muse and amusing amazingly.
poetry is the multi colors in me that I use to paint my world.